french in the morning and italian at night. coffee and butter, then wine and olive oil- like bookends in my day. i just made dinner (finally) while listening to django reinhardt, which makes it more fun- like cooking is glamorous and an old school apron should be worn, and the light coming into the kitchen should be just right, to hit the edge of a glass, and things should be fresh- the spices, the vegetables- and luckily they were.
it was one of those days. those days when you're amazed at how boring life can be- i mean - the skeleton-ness of it- the black and white cartoon before color is added. doctors appointments and car repair estimates and lots of waiting- lots of 20 minute slots before picking that person up from there, 15 minutes before something else. snippets of time. and zoe was struggling today- talking more than thinking- fighting me with math. i wish i could say i was calm, cool and collected, i wasn't. i wish i could say i modeled what she needed to learn, i didn't. i even swore. now that is bad.
i'm still reading that book- let the great world spin. it's finally 'spun' into a place where what i thought were just short stories strung together by the event of a tightrope walker dancing between the twin towers- are now linking themselves into a braid. i love that. the last chapter i read was about a character who rides the subway in search of graffiti deep in the tunnels beneath the city. he's fascinated by these artists who go where it's dark and dank and risky and dangerous to leave their 'tag' where no one will ever see it. it made me think of the inner beams of the great cathedrals where nameless people carved birds and things into the wood- that would never be seen by human eyes.
when the tightrope walker did his walk between the towers, he didn't advertise, just the opposite, he had to sneak. he just wanted to do it- to know he could- to feel that distance- that sense of himself in space- up where no one can walk- on only a wire. perhaps his best moment- seen by a scattering of random people.
why do we do the things we do? who are we when nobody is looking? how wide is the gap between when we're at our best and when we're at our worst. me floating around the kitchen seasoning this and boiling that, is not me banging my head on my fist in frustration because zoe doesn't want to line up her zero's, but it is me- unfortunately. we can be many things when no one is looking, but we're better at being consistent when people are. and who i want to be when no one is there, is someone who cares enough to carve the bird- to walk my own tightrope, to leave beauty in hidden places, to plant little sprouts in other peoples lives- those who work in tollbooths or who rear-end us in traffic- even those who were born to us years ago, who we see everyday, whose little lives we're shaping.
it was one of those days. those days when you're amazed at how boring life can be- i mean - the skeleton-ness of it- the black and white cartoon before color is added. doctors appointments and car repair estimates and lots of waiting- lots of 20 minute slots before picking that person up from there, 15 minutes before something else. snippets of time. and zoe was struggling today- talking more than thinking- fighting me with math. i wish i could say i was calm, cool and collected, i wasn't. i wish i could say i modeled what she needed to learn, i didn't. i even swore. now that is bad.
i'm still reading that book- let the great world spin. it's finally 'spun' into a place where what i thought were just short stories strung together by the event of a tightrope walker dancing between the twin towers- are now linking themselves into a braid. i love that. the last chapter i read was about a character who rides the subway in search of graffiti deep in the tunnels beneath the city. he's fascinated by these artists who go where it's dark and dank and risky and dangerous to leave their 'tag' where no one will ever see it. it made me think of the inner beams of the great cathedrals where nameless people carved birds and things into the wood- that would never be seen by human eyes.
when the tightrope walker did his walk between the towers, he didn't advertise, just the opposite, he had to sneak. he just wanted to do it- to know he could- to feel that distance- that sense of himself in space- up where no one can walk- on only a wire. perhaps his best moment- seen by a scattering of random people.
why do we do the things we do? who are we when nobody is looking? how wide is the gap between when we're at our best and when we're at our worst. me floating around the kitchen seasoning this and boiling that, is not me banging my head on my fist in frustration because zoe doesn't want to line up her zero's, but it is me- unfortunately. we can be many things when no one is looking, but we're better at being consistent when people are. and who i want to be when no one is there, is someone who cares enough to carve the bird- to walk my own tightrope, to leave beauty in hidden places, to plant little sprouts in other peoples lives- those who work in tollbooths or who rear-end us in traffic- even those who were born to us years ago, who we see everyday, whose little lives we're shaping.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.